


Dog Days:

by TheLightdancer



Series: Dagor Dagorath [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dogs and Cats, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Minor Angst, Shapeshifting, xenofiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLightdancer/pseuds/TheLightdancer
Summary: An interlude showing a day in the life during Arwen's month with Huan in the woods around the House of Last Resort:
Relationships: Elladan/Niënor Níniel
Series: Dagor Dagorath [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979809
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Dog Days:

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ilya_Boltagon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilya_Boltagon/gifts).



It was a day that began like any other in this point in the lives of all who were affected by it. Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond and survivor of rumored atrocities that were now wider gossip in the House of Last Resort, a camp where the largest surviving communities of all the Free Peoples dwelt in what was still called Mirkwood even if the nature of the shadow had changed with the return of the Great Enemy beyond the doors. In the wake of his return, the nest of Ungoliant-spawn had been put to the sword not by the valour of the Elves or the Free peoples, but by a targeted extermination campaign waged by Orcs and trolls, exacting the petty vengeance of their master on the slight paid to him by Ungoliant. So the shadows were not those of Unlight and the skittering remnants of a long-dead monster from beyond the stars, they were those of the old Enemy, the malice of Morgoth Bauglir writ large.

And yet, boosted by the will first of Mithrandir and of the other elves, and then, following first their return and in the wakes of that return the free and uncorrupted survivors of the Haradrim and the Easterlings (so few, but each of them hardy and vailiant soldiers), of the Blue Wizards, the woods were shadow-haunted but monster-free. Aided, too, by the wide-ranging nets and power of the Istari Aiwendil, released to use ever more of the fullness of his power to shield the beings of the Kementari, there was space enough for animals to exist, and to know traces of the lives they had known amidst the brutalities and cruelties of the cycle between the Enemy in all his forms and the Free Peoples in all their forms.

In the woods, there were beasts and birds, and beyond the woods, there was a vast area that had once been an Elven kingdom, ruled by Thranduil, known to the nearby peoples of the fallen and ruined area that would in other times have evolved into mighty Esgaroth and storied Dale, as the Erlkoenig. Now it had become larger, shielded and amplified by the designs and arts of increasingly unbound Maia, whose power was loosed the greater as greater grew the danger that all the refugees were in. One of the most subtle arts permitted the space to be larger within than it was without, cousin to the arts used by Maiar and by an entity that had arrived in secret, his glory dimmed lest the fullness reveal itself and the design of the Deathless to their foe too soon.

Life in the camp was tense on the best of days, given the growing power and destruction of the enemy. It had not been the best of days in some time, and certainly not before Arwen had been ambushed by her resurrected distant ancestor Luthien and displayed power in the sense of the Peredhils but wider-ranging. This was no secret to her family, nor was it unexpected, but it was a reminder both of the storied elements surrounding the family and why it did not always work to the better that legend went from story back into reality.

This was especially clear to a sorrowful, dour-looking Elleth with dark blue-black hair, who sat next to her husband feeling alone and isolated in a way she had not since the dungeon of the Feanorians, and there she had had Huan. And the last thing she had seen of her old friend was him snarling at her and then going back into the woods where no sign of him had been seen since. It was still more clear in the looks, a mixture of resentment, annoyance, exasperation, and anger in near-perfect elements at her by another woman with silver-golden tresses, tall and willowy. The two had had an angry exchange that had become the topic of much of the gossip that passed the boredom interspersed by moments of deadly peril that made the camp feel like the war zone it absolutely was. Accurate details were few but it was clear that yesterday's beloved legends become truth were today's shunned.

For Luthien the price of her actions was a steep one and it told, and she was weary from the weight of the burdens within and without and trying not to let things get to her more.

Her descendants spoke as little to her as her cousin did, and made a point, petty though it was, of not doing so. One of a pair of dark-haired twins was sitting hand in hand with a woman with hair as golden as one of the Vanyar's. The woman's brother found himself both amused and relieved to realize that the ties of his family with that of the House of Elrond had become more than just Arwen alone, and his amusement leavened his words. It was hard to find that feeling in the context of the harshness of the world they now lived in, and it was precious where it could be found.

It was the woman who asked, musing: "How do you think she's doing?"

Her brothers shrugged, uncertain and unwilling to go into detail, because if they did they'd start letting the itch they felt to go into the woods be followed through. Direct orders of Galadriel and to the genuine bemusement of most people, Thranduil, had made clear that none were to pursue Arwen Elrondiel, Tauriel taking a somewhat higher than usual pleasure in enforcing the orders in question on two highborn Elves whose sense of their breeding and their abilities to act was not matched by reality.

Turin's voice responded with a slightly teasing lilt. "You sure you want to think about her and not Elladan?"

The Elf gave him a slightly annoyed look as Nienor rolled her eyes, then mused further: "I hope she's OK."

Turin snorted. "She survived Angband and got to where she is now. Living in the woods? I bet she's having the time of her life."

\----------

Huan approved of the pup living life as it was meant to be lived, on four legs, not two. With a coat of fur, hers a mixed black and white fur that gave her a surprisingly good camouflage in Mirkwood, moreso than his own. Her shape was four-legged, and she was mostly like a dog but not entirely so. She was like the bigger-four legs, the ones that could go on two legs and scratched trees and left their scents*. Animals whose true names were obscure and taboo, thus they were called Beorni, Bears, by the two-legs of Beren's pack. Like him she lived life as it was meant to be lived, not in the realm of sight as Men and Elves and Dwarves lived it, but in the realm of smell, where the odors of the world were a world keener than any eye could see.

His form was fast, hers less so, she had become a being on four legs with paws like the bigger four-legs, forelimbs slightly larger than the hindlimbs, her muzzle longer and deeper than his own. Her form could, like his, eat a wide-ranging number of things found by smell. Like him she knew the pleasure of rolling around and sleeping in the Sun, and of being able to sleep together in a pack in the darkness of night. The fell things in the wood that were in the shape of beasts were gone, slain by other fell things in a vendetta but this did not register, as while there were odors of fearsome nature in the distant edges, they did not go there, not where the two-legs of stouter proportions in crude armor with wicked cleavers could bite.

Huan had always thought that life on four legs was better, and he was mused to find his fellow four-legs enjoying it, even as her eyes retained that brilliant greyish hue that was the colors of the shape she had as two legs who lived long lives.

She was relaxing in the Sun in a clearing in the woods, feeling the warmth of Arien in her fur.

_You look happy, pup._

She looked at him, hearing his voice, used to hearing Huan in a way that only Beren and....her...up to this point were able to truly do, for many had lost the art that had once been more common in the old days.

_I am._

Two words, and they meant much. She had become used to remembering what she could do on her own, finding herself able to enjoy life like this. A world of scents, as it had been during.....

In this shape she dreamed dreams not unlike in her other shape, a time when she had shifted into her fox form abruptly, her dress, then a set of fairly crude material that felt rougher than she was used to, but a dress all the same of Orcish make from tailors of Morgoth's armies (and in retrospect she confessed she should never have been puzzled by that, Orcs wore clothes, they didn't steal them, but still) torn as the one she'd worn in the tent had. She had escaped and spent most of two months using as many shapes as she could to evade Morgoth in these dreams.

They shaped memories, especially her forms as dog and fox and bear, they shaped the way she moved, in the scent-world. Her nose against trees and the ground, the world in its broader and wider elements known to her in a way that even the keenness of elven sight did not show. She could smell Huorns, and just how many of the forest's trees beyond that outermost rim were Huorns. They smelled of malice and cruelty no less devastating than that of the Enemy, though they were not of his service and would never be. Malice had a sharp, bitter odor like that of reeking garbage.

The enemy's forces smelled like corpses left to rot in the hot sun in a humid jungle, and where the scent of Ainur-infused flesh sensed things that true animals could not, the souls of Huorns smelled the sharp and acrid element of anger, the souls of Morgoth's servants smelled of pain and resentment and bitterness, hatred of what had made them so. The reek of Morgoth was unmistakable and much keener here, she could avoid him and his servants with ease as animals did. Other animals gave her wary pause, Huan noted, the flying things and the creeping things, the bugs and the birds. The chittering squirrels that were the best of things to chase where cats were not.

She moved with skill as a four-legs, though her form was larger than his and slower. Larger and slower but not stealthier, he had to use his fuller skills and elements of who had been before he had taken this shape in the Music of the creator to keep tabs on her at points and that amazed him. There were times where she reminded him achingly of Luthien's mother, able to seemingly flow in and out of shadows, using that a few times to sneak up on him and play pranks. He could not deny either that there was a time when one of the really big four-legs, one that had clearly seen bad things from two-legs, one of its eyes damaged and scarred and in a foul mood had moved toward him.

He was brave, braver than many (and here he had no false modesty) two legs in the world of eyes. But that thing had made him if not scared, nervous.

Then she had appeared out of the shadows snarling and the creature froze, and as more of her emerged from it it had turned and moved with almost undue haste, and Huan had huffed joyfully and they had wrestled a bit. He came to appreciate the merit of her form when they did, he had wrestled and cast down the great werewolves, but pup in this form had a bulk to her that could and did outmatch him with ease. She was careful in how she used it, her claws were supremely sharp, trees testified to this, for her form like the bigger four-legs sometimes rose on two legs to scratch trees, claws tearing into the bark.

Shadows grew sometimes if they did this too close to some trees, trees whose voices seemed to echo in wind and to speak with malice and terror, it was unwise and they knew this. Huan knew that the shadow-trees could move, one of many advantages of four over two legs and scent over sight was that he could smell them, and move so that there was always a ring of trees between himself and the rest.They had even found something strange, once, a thing that had seemed a tree until it had stood on legs like tree trunks with a body vast and like bark, and had spoken **_Hmm, Hom. What's this, then? Hasty dogs, no need to be hasty now._** They had yipped and moved around him, whuffing. He did not smell the tree-two-legs here, nor others of his kind.

That was good. The old one had been kind, some of the younger less so. They knew him and they guessed at her but some were uncertain, and spoke of **_Bears that scratch and claw_** and it was not a kind saying and so they moved.

And right now they were lazing in the sun, pup on her back, her voice a low and content sound between hum and a low kind of growl, as Huan likewise relaxed, no worries. No tree-men, no strange singing two-legs with bright yellow hat. It was a good day, where they just lived, the world of scents quiet and still, the sun in their fur. Time passed and then they smelled a familiar scent, from an individual both remembered in different ways. A scent worth chasing for the sake of chasing. Cat.

Huan flipped himself over quickly, pup more laboriously because her form was, after all, larger and slower though with such great strength.

Tevildo was humming to himself, speaking as the two-legs spoke and singing as they sang. It had been a long time since he'd encountered the strange beings, the Elves, the dark haired twins, the blonde human woman, the dark-haired man, and the elf-maid whose hair was that mixture of black and white. More to the point since his glorious magnificence, highest of highs and best of bests had been near a rangy dog. He was Prince of Cats, a being neither fully animal nor fully of Elves and men, and gloried in the contradictions of his existence, walking on two legs.

He hummed that ditty he had come up with and prized himself for inventing:

_Not to go on all fours, that is the law._

_Not to drink like beasts, that is the law._

_Not to feast like beasts, that is the law,_

_Am I not a Prince?_

He loved this portion of the woods, so many lovely beasts and none of the horrid-eyed Orcs with their torturers and their questions. One had tried to de-claw him and he'd had to taste the rancidness that was their blood and escaped. Now he strode through the woods humming.

Then he froze. His whiskers detected something, something that was strangely familiar, and what had been a good day was now ruined, and something that was not. He paused, frozen, humming things influenced by the doggerel the Orcs composed to mock their master:

_His is the house of pain,_

_his the lightning-flash._

And then he saw two unfortunate things. One much more clearly than the other. One was the familiar and gigantic shape of Huan, the towering hound easily three times his size. And the other something as large as Huan, something dark grey with eyes of a haunting greyish hue more man than beast, vast and dark and bear-like but its motions were not those of a bear.

_What?_

A single word, startled, and then Huan barked with the delight of the chase, as the dark thing made its-no....he detected a strangeness in the smell and in the way his senses worked. The vast and dark grey beast was a she-beast. And she too made her sound between that of dog and bear and then he found himself getting an altogether unprecedented and undesired brand of exercise+. He found himself having to run in two different kinds of run and oscillating between each, a sturdy two-legged run where the dark creature pursued him with bounds of great strength but far slower than the hound. Yet if he underestimated her, he found himself beneath a bounding being whose strength amazed him, claws extended out and with a look of enjoyment altogether more sophisticated n her face than the kind of beast he was familiar with would have truly had, though here he could hunker down and pull his forepaws to his face and the entity often overshot him, just in time for the hound to show up and then there was that four-legged run he despised. 

That run made him feel like his subjects, the common and humble cat, that which preyed upon vermin and for this was owed gratitude from the men that kept them. Two legs could outrun the big one, four legs outran the hound.

"Why does this always happen to me?" He screamed at one point when he'd just managed to outrun the big one and climbed up a tree and its branches, before shimmying down the other side to briefly give the dogs the slip.

He breathed, one of his paws on his hammering chest, mewing and growling a bit at slipping like his subjects. Princes did not mew, princes spoke, princes gave orders and were obeyed.

He thought he'd done it when he heard a low sound, deep and growling, and turned to find himself facing the gigantic bear thing.

He scratched the tree in frustration and beat his head against it. growling "Oh come ON!" before scrambling up the tree, as the hound joined the big one, and one barked and the other growled for a time. He clung to the tree, shaking his paw.

"Get your stinking paws off my tree, you damned dirty dogs!"

That just made the big one snarl louder and even seem to roar slightly and he mewed again, frustrated. Such a nice day, enjoying his own songs and now this.

The forest rustled and predators and prey alike became silent as they sensed something much bigger moving through the forest, bigger than the black-and-grey, bigger than the hound. It was coming near him, to boot.

It and a few others like it. In scent the dog and the bear-dog registered the odor of not merely one of the Beorni but seemingly a family, a mother, a father, and three cubs. The adults were gigantic beings, vast and brown with deep muzzles, humps in their back registering the immense strength of their bodies, their faces somewhat flatter. Their eyes turned to first the cat, then the wolfhound, then the gigantic black and white dappled entity, the last one smelling somewhat distinct to the others.

The mother and the cubs moved onward as the father briefly moved himself to his full height. The tree that Tevildo hid on was massive and even at his full height the gigantic two-legs did not come quite to that, but he was closer to Tevildo. With a bit of a grin that varied between roguish and (to Tevildo's entirely rational and unbiased eye) evil, he looked up at him and then roared in a thunderous volume that made Tevildo's fur stand on end as his claws dug into the tree. The bear returned to his four limbs and moved on, his huffing sounding undeniably like laughter, as did the huffing sounds of the damned dog from so long ago, and still moreso the sounds of the dappled one.

The dog and the bear-dog moved on an hour and a half later, but Tevildo didn't leave the tree for two more days.

One day of such exercise was enough, and in truth he wished he had not gone out of his way to goad that hound. Maybe then he would have been able to finish the song and actually sleep at night rather than fearing what the hound might do.

For their part pup and hound slept well, the hound looking forward to new ways to play with pup as long as she wished to stay four-legged. It felt good, in all truth, to have someone else who just _got_ it. He huffed, _Two legs good, four legs better._ And then huffed a laugh and dozed off.

The dappled bear-dog remained awake long and fell into a restless kind of sleep where a bear moved silently in the woods, watching a very large Orc with skin pale as snow and a missing hand snarling as he moved through woods and spoke in a tongue she had learned and become fluent in though she had never desired to be.

_Find her, Lord Morgoth demands his woman! Find her or it's your arses, boyz!_

The white Orc had sought to find the Elf-maiden and the bear slunk off into the woods. The bear-dog slept well at night in dreams of monsters evaded, and for the first set of nights in a long time, genuine rest came to Arwen Elrondiel, who felt parts of herself that she had forgotten begin to reappear and new memories make their ways known past the fetters of that which had sought to hurt her.

**Author's Note:**

> *The form Arwen takes is essentially that of the species Amphicyon ingens, a Cenozoic proto-canid that was exactly as described, a very large species blending traits of dogs and bears. The actual animal was an all-around predator meant to hunt big animals, but too slow to adapt to the world when its preferred big prey went extinct. Arwen takes this form to ensure that she's safe, if she has to, and because she tried to shift to wolf-hound and to her bear-form at the same and wound up with something not quite either. 
> 
> \+ For the soundtrack of this, here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnHmskwqCCQ


End file.
